He fists my hair and tugs sharply, and fuck. The echoing pull of my scalp releasing something inside me, and I feel the internal fissure like a jagged clifftop breaking from the only existence it’s ever known to plummet down into the sea.

With a broken moan, I let my head fall back into his waiting palm.

His sinful mouth descends to press a kiss to my cheek, to the corner of my lips, to the sensitive flesh just behind my ear. I rock against him, fast and then faster. My motions are jerky, all sensuality abandoned in hope of bursting apart at the seams within his arms. Music filters down the hall, a jaunty holiday tune that’s so at odds with the crude sounds erupting in our little bubble of self-ruination.

The bells on my velvet choker jingle with every swivel of my hips.

Whimpers tear from my throat, and I bite down on my lip to smother them all.

Large hands cup my ass. With a ragged sound that reverberates in his chest, he angles me so that I slam down over the rough-textured seam of his zipper, as well as his thick length, in short, heart-stopping pulses that make my vision swim. I can’t catch my breath, not when the pressure is suddenly relentless, the friction utterly and completely ruthless.

“I made you a promise to make you scream,” he grits out. Again, he brings me down on his cock. Again, I scrabble for purchase until I’m gripping the lapels of his suit and holding on for dear life. “But I’ve changed my mind.”

His lips cover mine.

Sensation tumbles through me, zipping down my spine and flooding my core.

“Please,” I beg on a trembling breath. “I’m so close. I need—”

“Don’t make a sound.”

“What—”

His fingers sink over my choker, knuckles lazily grazing my throat, and I don’t have time to process the earth-shattering display of dominance because my gown is thrown over my hips and the fingers of his free hand bury between my thighs. Oh, God. Oh, fuck me.

“Not a sound, Laela,” he warns. “Nod if you understand.”

Dazed, I meet those rich, cognac eyes that watch me with a savage hunger that I feel within myself like a twin flame. His thumb presses over my clit, the pressure just enough to make me release a hitched sigh. Blood roars in my ears, and the reality of this moment slams into me like a freight train.

I’m coming undone.

Unraveling.

“Laela.”

Lips parting on a shallow gasp, I echo, “Not a sound, sir.”

“Good girl,” he rasps softly.